


That feeling is gone. The one that tricked me time again.

by youngjusticewriter



Series: Fluctuat Nec Mergitur [6]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Haruno Sakura-centric, I don’t know why but I’m in a Hanahaki Disease mood, Implied/Referenced Character Death, but it’s not just romantic love, no beta we die like men, originally this was suppose to be mokuton!Sakura but...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 18:56:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19382764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngjusticewriter/pseuds/youngjusticewriter
Summary: There was a girl once. She was named after a flower that lived only shortly in life.The girl only had flowers in her chest for a boy. The petal were thin, the color darker than her hair, and the flower in real life only came out of the ground by stormy weather.It was a very fitting flower to grow in the girl’s chest cavity because of the boy,As the girl grew there was another boy she came to love but, like one before, this bright boy (bright in hair, bright in personality that you would make you think he was the sun, bright in his smile when he did give one...its funny in an ironic way that for someone so bright he rarely smiled, and bright in mind when he wanted to be) could not love her. No, he belonged to the boy before. They had belonged together one way or another for so long that he could not give to anyone else despite how big his neglected heart was.





	That feeling is gone. The one that tricked me time again.

There was a girl once. She was named after a flower that lived only shortly in life. 

The girl only had flowers in her chest for a boy. The petal were thin, the color darker than her hair, and the flower in real life only came out of the ground by stormy weather. 

It was a very fitting flower to grow in the girl’s chest cavity because of the boy . 

As the girl grew there was another boy she came to love but,like one before, this bright boy (bright in hair, bright in personality that you would make you think he was the sun, bright in his smile when he did give one...its funny in an ironic way that for someone so bright he rarely smiled, and bright in mind when he wanted to be) could not love her. No, he belonged to the boy before. They had belonged together one way or another for so long that he could not give to anyone else despite how big his neglected heart was. 

The flowers that grew in the girl were just as bright. They were yellow, not orange, and the petals of the weed toppled over one and another. 

There was a man who wormed his way into her chest, into the girl’s too giving heart, with head pats and rules where abandonment made someone worse then scum. The flower that grew in the girl’s stomach for him was the largest. It was a shade lighter then her hair and it, like the bright boy’s flower, had petals toppling over one and another. 

The first to leave the girl (who cried and gave promises of companionship but such words were wind to the boy because what was a promise of love from that girl when that man could not keep his own promises) was the first boy. The boy who gave her death in her chest. 

The boy, the weed that had persisted to grow in her garden despite all odds, who the girl had grown to love left soon after with a promise to get the boy back. 

Of course he made that promise with one of his rare smiles. He had cared for the boy longer than the girl had even if the word to describe that love was of rivalry. 

But didn’t he know?

The ones that abandon their friends are worse then scum. 

The first boy, the boy who brought flowers in the girl’s chest that only sprouted in stormy weather, was scum no matter how gently he had her down on the park bench. 

The man who too had brought death to girl’s heart did not leave the village but he did not stay with the girl either. 

The flowers of death and the weed that kept the other two flowers company did not wither despite the distance that the boys and man had brought upon the girl. 

The girl went to the leader of the village and asked her to take her under her wing so she could be strong. So she could be something worth loving. 

The leader did and the girl loved her so much for it. But there were no flowers, no deaths, no weeds, that grew in the girl’s lungs for it. 

Years later when the bright boy and man came home there was no garden in the girl’s heart for them but still she smiled and joined them in their little group that one day would bring the first boy back home. 

There was a new boy in their group. Skin so pale you would either think him a monster and a smile that was so ugly. 

He asked the girl to teach him how to smile, to lie, like she did. (They both after all had their own missions from their leaders that the little group did not know of.) 

The girl agreed and one day when she grew to love him too there grew no flowers in her chest. The boy, like the leader of the village, did not take from the girl despite how new he was to such matters. 

Together the pale boy (who people thought of as a monster and would have thought a princess in need of saving had he been a girl) and the girl killed the first boy much to the shock of their little group. 

There was no garden in the girl’s chest for the boys and the man after all. There was however a love for the village’s leader and the pale boy who asked for her to teach him how to smile. 

(Perhaps it had been selfish for the leader of the village to put her warm hands in the girl’s chest and take out the death and weeds that grew in it instead of telling the girl to wait a little longer and they’ll come back. Maybe when they were back they could have learnt to look out from their own selves and would have grown to love the girl. 

But the village leader had lost too many of whom she loved. She would not allow the girl whom she loved to squander her own life for love that was unreciprocated. 

So the leader’s glowing hands went into the girl’s chest to pull out the garden. 

When the garden was pulled there was no love for three to be found.) 

The bright boy screamed of love - you loved him! how could you do that? - and the girl simply asked in a calm tone where was his love for their village? 

(She doesn’t ask where was his love for her when the first boy had tried to kill her; she doesn’t ask why it was okay for the boy to attempt to murder her, something that was easily forgiven as if it was nothing but annoying fly to be swatted aside, but when she had in return killed him for the attempt on her life she isn’t forgiven. 

Why would the girl who had grown ask such things? 

She doesn’t care. She doesn’t love. The bright weeds in her garden was gone. The weeds and flowers of death had been gone for years and they hadn’t noticed because they were scum - they had left. They had never noticed her dying on her love for them when they had been there.)

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from I’m not hungry anymore by Marina and the Diamonds.


End file.
